Red shift, the distance between constellations
that astronomers calculate by,
running cool to warm: how
do we measure the distance between us?

I don’t know how long the plate
has had a crack in it, stained dark;
yellow plate with a painted design,
you can see where the brush started
and left off, pinpoints where it lifted
from making dots. How little you told me,

that your family made a living
folding paper bags awhile, all living
in the same room; that for Dashain
everyone was supposed to have new clothes
so your old ones were turned inside out.

Rio Grande snaking into Pilar,
my tent held down with stones,

the aspen flickering –

my tracks held by the riverside
only a day or two.